by Danni Fall
He's pulled out of his reverie by the feeling of eyes on him. A brunette about his own age looks from him to the single.
"Sorry, I don't mean to intrude but..." Simon grins in anticipation. "Are you Simon Sharp?"
"I was last time I checked. What can I do for you?"
"I just wanted to say how much I love your song."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," she says, colouring. "It's so catchy."
"Thanks. Did you hear us on the radio just now?"
"No, did they play it?"
"Played it and interviewed us. Shame you missed it."
"What did you talk about?"
Zoe clears her throat and looks at him pointedly. "HQ?"
"How bout I meet you back there Zo?" Simon says, ignoring Zoe's weary expression. "I think me and- sorry, what's your name, darling?"
The brunette blushes harder. "Victoria."
"Me and Victoria are gonna have a chat. That sound good, Vicky?"
Victoria nods vigorously. Simon claps Zoe on the shoulder and murmurs "don't wait up, yeah?" as he passes.
"I need a shower after that," Zoe grimaces.
Simon keeps grinning as he focuses back on Victoria. "So, where were we?"
"You were on the radio. How did it go?"
"Oh yeah," Simon says as they head outside. "Well you see Vicky, I'm a perfectionist."
"Keep an eye on your phone!" Zoe demands. "No leaving it in your jacket this time!"
"Yes mum, promise!" He calls back before offering Victoria an easy smile. "Fancy a walk, darling?"
Chapter 15
Mark
As Mark leaves Westminster Union, he spots Joe leaning against one wall.
"Good guess," Mark says.
"Thank you."
"Did you figure out what I'm up to or just where I'd be?"
"Only the latter. Are you in a position to explain now?"
"Not yet. Someone's checking with someone else and they'll call me this afternoon about it. When I know, you'll know."
Joe studies him intently.
"It's honestly not illegal," Mark says.
"Not what you consider to be illegal or actually not illegal?"
"Actually not illegal. Fancy a bite? I'm getting peckish."
"I could eat."
He grabs Joe's arm and marches them towards Soho. "I know just the place."
Joe's feet drag. "We're not going for bagels."
"How did you guess?"
"We can get bagels to takeaway," Joe pleads.
"Joseph, do I embarrass you?"
"Yes."
"I got recognised in the Union, you know." Mark walks them to the cafe. "Couple of women came up to me. Guess what they asked."
"It's a small cafe, there probably won't be room to sit in."
"You're not that fat."
"That's not what I meant," Joe says.
"You haven't guessed what these girls asked."
"Did they ask for your autograph?"
"Not even close. They asked me if Simon was around. I gave them Pete's number, that'll confuse him."
"Nicola won't appreciate that."
"They're married now. In bloody Leeds, no less. They need all the excitement they can get up there."
Mark pokes his head in the door of the cafe then gives Joe a grin.
"You'll be relieved to hear they've got a table and Natalie is working today."
"Natasha. Thank you for putting my fears to rest," Joe says drily.
They squeeze inside and sit at the last free table. Mark beams at Natasha before picking up the salt shaker. He makes a little trail of salt on the vinyl table cloth before Joe puts a halting hand on his.
"Why didn't you give the girls Simon's number?" Joe asks. "Out of concern for his privacy?"
"Deeply concerned about that. Nah, I didn't give 'em his number because it'd only inflate his ego, we don't need that. What you having?" Mark gestures to the menu on the wall.
"You're offering to pay?"
"Hang about, if I order you won't get chance to have a chat with the lovely Nat." Mark ignores Joe miming at him to lower his voice.
"What do you want?" Joe asks.
"Very generous, Joseph. I'll have cheese and tomato, ta."
He leans back and watches Joe make awkward small talk with Natasha as he orders, only stopping when Joe turns to shoot daggers at him. Joe returns with their food and water.
Mark takes a glass and salutes Natasha. "Cheers m'dear!"
She offers him a puzzled smile. Joe starts inhaling his bagel in an apparent bid to smother his embarrassment.
"Going well with her, I take it?" Mark asks.
"Please stop."
"You didn't even redistribute your fillings. Think of the flavour profile, all those chives clumped together."
"What happened on the radio?"
Mark takes a big bite and chews slowly while Joe waits patiently.
"Well?" Joe prompts when he swallows.
"You were there too, why d'you need me to tell you?"
"I've never seen you struggle for things to say."
"I was just thinking about my hare-brained idea, there was nowt more sinister going on."
"And thinking about whatever it is couldn't wait until we'd finished the interview?" Joe asks.
Mark dodges Joe's gaze by picking poppy seeds off his bagel. "Apparently not. You know me, got a one track mind. When I get an idea in my head, I've gotta run with it."
"This was a one off, then?"
"You're not dropping this, are you?"
"You've always enjoyed being the centre of attention."
"But then Simon came on the scene," Mark says. "D'you fancy trying to hog his limelight? He'd knock you out, or try to at least. That'd be funny to watch."
"So it's Simon that's caused you to change?"
Mark scowls. "No-one can change me 'cept me, and even I struggle with that."
"Not even Chris?"
Mark keeps his expression blank. "Not even my mate Chris."
"It's not sustainable, avoiding any and all personal questions forever, you-"
"I'll bring her over."
"You'll bring who over? Zoe?"
"Nat. I'll tell her you like her."
Joe looks stricken. "Don't."
"Then don't."
"Don't what? Raise a valid concern?"
Mark makes to catch Natasha's eye and Joe leans sideways to block his view.
"We got an agreement then?" Mark asks.
"This isn't a long term strategy."
"Speak for yourself, I think I'm onto a winner."
Mark's phone starts buzzing with a call from the Union. Shoving the last of his bagel in his mouth, he offers Joe a broad, bready smile as he gets up.
"Destiny's calling, better answer. Y'sure I can't put in a good word for you with the lovely Nat?"
"Let us know as soon as your plans have crystallised," Joe insists.
"Scout's honour," Mark says before dashing outside.
***
Simon
Victoria obviously thinks Simon is joking when they stop strolling around Soho and come to a halt outside the Sex Den. She eyes the back door before looking at him.
"You own this place?" she asks.
"Yeah, it's a little hangout the band uses, like a rehearsal and chill out space."
"It looks like an old cafe."
"That's what it was before we bought it."
She wanders around the side and looks at the frontage. "The cafe sign is still up."
"It's got character, we thought we'd leave it."
"I thought you said the band weren't in today?"
"They're not."
"Then why are the lights on?"
Simon tries not to react. "Probably just left them on last time I was here. My mum'd have a right go at me for doing that. Electricity don't grow on trees, you know?"
Victoria's eyes train on the padlock. "Did you forget to lock the door last time you were here?" He struggles for an ans
wer. "Why do you have a padlock? Why don't you have a key if you own the place?"
"I gotta go actually," he rushes. "This has been good though, yeah? Gimme a bell if you fancy a drink after a show."
"Right. I'll let you know, Simon."
"And tell your friends to buy the single!" he says before disappearing inside.
He jumps at the chuckle coming from down the hall. After registering how chuntering and ugly it is, he marches in with a scowl. Mark is laid on one mattress, thoroughly plastered, a vodka bottle resting on his stomach and a six pack at his side.
"Fancy seeing you here," Mark slurs.
"This is where you went after the radio show? This is your surprise?"
"No, I ran my errands and had a spot of lunch, then I came here for a little lie down."
"A little lie down and a massive drink," Simon mutters.
"By the way, the escort service sends their apologies that I'm the only prozzie they had left."
Simon snorts a derisive laugh. "Like I pay for sex."
"Like you'd pay for sex with me."
"Yeah, that too."
Mark glances past Simon. "Your girlfriend buggered off?"
"Just some girl I met in a record shop."
"How were the shelves looking? Good and empty?"
"If you're gonna be in here, we need some kind of system," Simon says.
Mark drags himself upright and Simon keeps his distance in case he vomits.
"What're you on about?" Mark asks.
"I don't wanna walk in on you doing god knows what."
"I thought you hated this place, my place. What's with the change of tune?"
"It's handy that it's central. Trying to convince a girl to go all the way to Southend's a bit of an ask."
"They not even game to go home in your beautiful sports car?"
"Not if it means going back to our shared bedroom," Simon says.
"Obvious solution is to quit being cheap and fork out for a hotel, or go back to hers."
Simon eases himself onto the mattress beside Mark's. "Never go to a second location."
Mark crows appreciatively. "Look at you, listening to me!"
"Well, it was bollocks before but people recognise us now. She could be like that bird in Stephen King." Mark looks blank. "You know, the one who smashes that bloke's legs, the bloke who writes her favourite books."
"Not sure there's any risk of you writing a bestseller."
"You know what I mean, we're famous now."
"We're getting there. Fancy an orgy to celebrate?" Simon wrinkles his nose. "What? You enjoyed it on our last tour."
"We didn't have an orgy."
"We came close enough."
"It wasn't close at all," Simon insists. "Stop talking about it."
"Alright, then you pick a topic."
"Why're you in here? This part of your scheme?"
"Nah, just needed somewhere to get pissed and this was closest and comfiest." Mark gestures to the six pack. "Fancy one?"
"It's three in the afternoon."
"Is that a yes or a no?"
Simon gestures for Mark to hand one over. "Tell me your scheme."
"Say pretty please."
"Tell me your scheme or I'll throw this can at your face."
"That'd make a change from punching me, at least," Mark says. "I booked us a gig at the Union."
"Westminster Union?"
"Where else?"
"Why?" Simon asks.
"Cause it'll cause a stir. We're about to hit the big time but we're getting back to our roots with a cheap gig for a lucky handful of punters. It's free press, innit?"
"That's not getting back to our roots," Simon says after chugging half a can. "That's getting back to your roots. The Absolute Bastards used to play unions, we used to play-"
"The Sun?" Mark provides. "Sands? We're barred from those for various sordid reasons. This is the next best thing. The Union nearly wet themselves when I suggested it. You in?"
"Sounds stupid."
"It's been ages since we played any gigs, been too busy dicking around with recording and doings."
Simon hides his tempted expression by drinking more beer. "But Westminster Union was the best gig you could get us? Really?"
"Oh relax, it'll be fun. Who knows, maybe Leah'll make an appearance."
Simon grabs another can with narrowed eyes. "Will she fuck. Is this part of your next Masterplan then?"
Mark looks pensive. "You know... I think we're past the point of having Masterplans, past the point of needing them."
"Yeah? How come?"
"Because it's like we've set off some chemical reaction. We couldn't stop all this if we tried, it's just bubbling and growing, all on its own. That's why I wanna play the Union, we won't get another chance to play somewhere that size."
Simon drinks in silence and feels Mark watching him.
"Well?" Mark prompts. "What d'you think about it?"
"I dunno. You don't get into this line of work to not get famous."
"Maybe you don't."
"I can't help that I'm confident."
"How are you gonna find it?" Mark asks quietly. "When that girl just now goes and tells her mates about this place, and they tell their mates, and they tell their mates, and then it's all over the news and people are visiting like it's a museum, how're you gonna find it?"
"That won't happen."
"Why won't it? When we get famous, it's gonna be like a searchlight. People'll find you in here, out there, wherever you are."
Simon pulls a face. "First it's like a chemical reaction, now it's like a searchlight."
"I'm a lyricist."
"Will that searchlight find you, hiding out in Bermondsey?"
"If by that you mean find me drinking and doing drugs, then yeah, probably."
"Easily fooled, that searchlight."
"Are you ready for all that?" Mark presses. "For having nowhere you can go and have a break?"
"I can go to my parents, or Ryan's, or my nan's. There's still places I could go."
"Bet some aunt or old workmate or someone will cough up where your folks live."
"Are you trying to put me off doing this?" Simon asks.
"No, I just want to make sure you know what you're getting into."
"I know. Ryan used to joke that my house would get turned into the Simon Pratt Museum, I'm not naive about it."
"Think I'll give that place a miss. Imagine the gift shop, fucking tragic."
Simon leans over to give Mark's arm a whack but Mark just smiles.
"What about you?" Simon asks. "You're not pulling out, are you?"
"There's a joke in there somewhere."
"Don't."
"No, I'm not planning on quitting, I'm checking you're alright," Mark says. "I'm in charge, it's my job to check everyone's alright."
"Right." Simon lies back and turns on his side to face him.
Mark mirrors him, eyes glazed. "Don't tell me you're pissed after two bloody cans, you lightweight."
"I had some pills earlier, I'm a bit-" Simon wafts a hand.
"Right. Promise not to overdose."
"Promise."
Mark's eyes fall closed. "Weird, getting what you want, isn't it?"
"I already texted you that."
"I'm agreeing with you. It's good that we've got our little band of misfits. All in this together, aren't we?"
Mark's lips turn up in a soft smile. Simon reads the label on his can.
"We've got to stick together, Si," Mark says, sounding ready to fall asleep. "It's us against the world now."
Chapter 16
Mark
Mark wakes up to a picture of Simon's pouting face inches from his nose. He leans back to get the photo in focus and casts his eye over the accompanying newspaper article.
"We've got a single out?" he asks. "Since when?"
Simon smacks him with the paper. "They reckon we'll get to number one."
"Hate to say it but I highly doubt that." Mark he
lps himself to some flat beer to ease his dry mouth. "It's a good song but we're not that popular yet. Top five, definitely."
"Real vote of confidence."
"How did you know about the article? Did Will tell you about it?"
"Ryan text me," Simon says. "Bet my nan's already got it in a frame on her mantelpiece."
"Just what your nan needs, a photo of you gussying up."
Simon opens the paper and admires his photo again. "It's a good picture, I don't take a bad one."
"Mind rousing me with a tap in the shoulder next time? Took days off my life, waking up to that."
"How about me? I woke up to see you, passed out and drooling."
"What time is it?" Mark asks around a yawn.
"Seven o'clock."
"Seven pm?"
"No, am."
Mark flops back down. "Fucking hell fire, what're we doing up at seven in the pissing morning?"
"You've been asleep for ages. You passed out in the middle of the afternoon, you're a proper alco."
"Meanwhile, you had to get up at the crack of dawn to find enough time to slag me off this much."
"Something like that," Simon says, looking at the article.
"Let me know if you want me to read it to you."
"Very funny."
Mark polishes off the rest of the backwash. "You're like a budgie with a mirror, you can't look away."
"I'm reading the sports section," Simon says tersely.
"You haven't even turned the page."
Simon folds the paper and slaps it on the bed. "So how's this gonna work?"
"How's what gonna work?"
"How are we gonna share this place between us? You could have it Monday to Thursday and I could use it Friday to Sunday."
"Well that's very convenient," Mark scoffs. "What makes you think we're sharing it at all? It's my place, you've never wanted owt to do with it till now."
"Yeah, but then you kept going on about how people are gonna track us down when we're famous. Come on, I'm giving you four days a week to my three."
"You're giving me all the shit weekdays, I wasn't born yesterday," Mark says. "What're you planning to do in here? Host your knitting circle?"
"I was gonna do the same sort of stuff you do in here."
"Get high, fuck and write music?"
"And lie low," Simon adds. He spots Mark's frown. "What? You really don't come here just to get away from stuff? There's a whole flat upstairs, you could stay down here and I could go up there. Just make sure you close the door to the cafe so I don't hear whatever you're doing."
